


Silence is Golden

by catgirl_luna



Category: The Yogscast
Genre: Blood, Evil!Xephos, Gen, Lalnable Hector - Freeform, Self-Harm, Suicide Attempt, Yoglabs, experimenting with a headcanon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-20
Updated: 2014-09-20
Packaged: 2018-02-18 02:43:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2332346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catgirl_luna/pseuds/catgirl_luna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oh, how he wished he could wrap a cord around their necks to choke the frivolous worship of something that was not that hard to obtain when you did not try so hard to seek it. When you didn't want it that was when it was thrust upon you. As if you were a child unable to speak up because of an over baring parent who insisted that this would be good for you. You would toughen up, that it would do you so much good as they pushed you off the edge into the overbearing silence where there was no escape from it. <br/>--------------------------------------</p>
<p>Lalnable's been labeled insane, locked away where only silence is there to welcome him. The effects of the silence and isolation are numerous. He hasn't lost himself completely to the silence.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Silence is Golden

**Author's Note:**

> Feeling a little sick and all of a sudden this happened. I had a headcanon and saw various others about Lalnable and one that suddenly popped into my head was Lalnable not being as insane as he's made out to be. I'm not sure I'm entirely happy with how it turned out, it may go through a re-write when i'm feeling less yucky. As always not beta-d and I appreciate any one who points out any mistakes! If you notice any please let me know and I'll fix them asap! I hope anyone that reads this enjoys!

Silence.

 

Generally it's something many people strive for in their lives. Busy little bees constantly working, hearing their own noise, the noise of others, the pounding of their own head as constant thoughts assailed them daily every hour. Every minute. Every second of their defunct lives. Silence was their only escape from it all. To run to that one sanctuary where not a peep could be heard. Where they'd be alone to do as they pleased. It was something to be cherished as it was so hard to obtain according to them.

 

Oh, how he wished he could wrap a cord around their necks to choke the frivolous worship of something that was not that hard to obtain when you did not try so hard to seek it. When you didn't want it that was when it was thrust upon you. As if you were a child unable to speak up because of an over baring parent who insisted that this would be good for you. You would toughen up, that it would do you so much good as they pushed you off the edge into the overbearing silence where there was no escape from it.

 

There he was. Standing in the middle of some noisy minded fools paradise. A stark silent room made of glass walls, disgustingly clean white floors, a shoddy bed and a chair that he hardly used. He preferred sitting on the floor, though he couldn't quite hide from the eyes that constantly watched him it was better than nothing. He knew they were watching. Even though no one was before him on the walkway there were cameras. He knew where each and every single one of them were. They thought they could hide things from him. They should know better then that by now. Yet, they continued to act as if he'd gone as mad as they believed him to of.

 

Silence was a double edged sword. Too little silence and you're overwhelmed. Craving for a much more peaceful existence. Your mind clouded by little thoughts that become overwhelming creating a poisonous environment. You begin to believe your worth is less, anxiety becomes a daily occurrence, you can't stop the thoughts no matter what you do. Silence, while it elevates from these things, others can develop in their place. Delusions, overwhelmingly nervous tendencies, loss of time-

 

Your mind.

 

He recalled from the first time he'd been placed in this cell that he'd began to pace. He'd make excuses to move to the point that it didn't feel natural to sit still for too long. He couldn't become idle. Not for one moment. Idleness is how it begins. It was a form of giving up in his mind and he refused it. His thoughts had been clear, precise as a snipers bullet to the forehead of a target. He talked quite loudly to himself, it was natural for one to talk to themselves, it kept their thoughts from wandering and on point in silence like this. It had been ever a game of chess with keeping his wits about him.

 

He'd realized years ago he was losing the game. He'd loss his sense of time, no clocks, the same room day in and day out made it hard to keep track when others rarely came around. He talked less and less, his voice becoming a soft murmur of the confident, loud voice it had started as. His mind was being invaded by invisible sounds, thoughts of the worst nature that ate at him even as he quelled them. He began to move less and less, keeping himself in a corner or somewhere where he could escape the eyes for even a moment. Though he knew it wasn't possible, if it stopped the crazed thought of eyes on him, the gooey, soft, disgusting windows into the inner workings of a person, then he'd do it. Even if it meant destroying parts of himself to maintain his mind-

 

He'd keep on playing.

 

To keep himself focused he started to write. One of the few luxuries her was allowed for a time. He'd write page after page, countless thoughts, plans, mathematics, anything and everything he could to get all of the thoughts out of his mind. However, it was short lived when he found one of his journals missing. He could recall exactly what was in that journal. Schematics for a machine, one that could do all the work of five machines in one. They'd come in while he slept. They'd- no _he_ had taken it. No one else would come in here to do it unless he told them to. Not after all the _lies_ he'd told them. He'd stopped sleeping consistently after that. He'd stay awake for as long as he could before his body gave out. He had to watch them. He had to make sure that they- _he_ did not come in. That _he_ did not steal anything else from him. He'd stopped writing in books all together after a time. He'd stopped using paper, pens, all writing implements. For awhile he was alright. He could handle it, not being able to write down his thoughts. He started to tare the papers, destroy the books. All his thoughts that he'd spilled onto those pages he ripped apart, releasing them from their bound prisons. At least they would be free. That thought at that moment had caused him to do something drastic. Something he would of never done any other time. He'd grabbed one of the pencils, and tried to drive it into his neck.

 

He'd failed in that attempt. There were many attempts after that, but that particular one was the one move that cost him any ground with the ever growing silence. They- _he_ took all of the writing implements away from him. He'd taken anything he could 'hurt' himself with. As if _he_ truly cared for his well being. Ha! There were other ways to do the job he'd intended with that pencil. He'd find the way. He'd always find a way around the others 'worries'. His mind, however had other plans.

 

His mind began to whirl after more time, he had no where to put the thoughts that filled his mind like an overflowing cup of wine. He had to get them out! He had to- He remembered looking at his hands then. Staring at the blue veins hidden just under the surface of his skin. He had something that they could never take away from him. He began to write all over the floor in his own blood. He'd bit into his index finger of his right hand, writing unintelligible things so that the eyes could not see, but he understood it perfectly.

 

He understood it all perfectly.

 

They'd tried to stop him from writing. Two of those pathetic testificates under his orders had tried to put a straight jacket on him. They tried to put a straight jacket on _him_. He'd laughed so hard then at them. Laughed so hard when his fist had connected to one of their faces. He'd broken their nose. He remembered how it had sounded to hear the snap. To hear the other testificate shout. To hear something besides the silence. It had relieved him. Renewed his mind for a quick moment. He let them put the jacket on him. He had his senses back. He'd gained ground back that he'd lost. He'd keep it at all costs.

 

All. Costs.

 

It started out simply. He'd cause himself to bleed and then they'd come. He'd hear their voices, make them scream, listen to their hums and murmurs. He'd keep the ground he'd gained and his mind would be sated. Yes. The silence wouldn't take his mind from him. He'd had everything else taken away, he wouldn't lose his mind nor his memories. Those were the only precious things to him. They were also precious to his warden. Oh yes, he knew how 'precious' of an asset he was to these labs. He'd started to break the glass after a time. He forgot just how many times he had done it, enough to make the testificates sigh with disdain at the repetitive replacement of the panes. The sounds were heaven to him.

 

Absolute heaven.

 

They'd tried to replace the glass with hardened glass. Oh, their attempts were cute he had to admit. The hardened glass just made it easier to hurt himself. Made it easier for him to get them to come running if they didn't want to make _him_ mad. His room changed constantly, the glass back to breakable as it caused less damage to his person. His bed having only a metal frame too hard for him to break and use for anything, the mattress having no small metal or wood fragments in it. They tried everything to keep him from doing unnecessary things. Yet, it did not stop him. He found ways to make the sounds come to him. It worked each time.

 

He'd stopped keeping time, though he had a vague knowledge of what time it could be. Different testificates came when he hurt himself. Some only came once and were gone for a long time and then returned once, the cycle repeating. He'd began to try and figure out what time it was by keeping track of them and counting.

 

Oh the counting!

 

It began so simply and then it became one of the few things he relied on. Each tap of his foot, each number listed off in his head. He knew it took them a quick count to fifty to get to him. He knew it took them a count of one hundred to leave. They were inefficient in returning to their previous duties. He found it rather amusing being _his_ priority. 

 

Eventually the testificates stopped coming. _He_ had figured out his trick. He was always a slow one, but he should of known he'd figure it out eventually. He wouldn't let them come running now unless he was dying. They'd taken everything that he could use. Leaving him again with the silence. It was difficult to retain yourself when you're left alone for too long. You never realize just how much contact you need to keep yourself together. You begin to imagine things, all sorts of things. You start to see animals, people. Have imaginary conversations with these delusions. It takes him time to stop talking to them. He had to force himself to bury his face into a pillow and ignore the images. Ignore the voices. He was not crazy. He refused to lose himself! No. His mind was HIS. He wouldn't let them take that away.

 

Never.

 

He played his game with the silence. Moment by moment. He began to move without realizing it. Sometimes he would sleep but wake standing up in the middle of the room. He had no control over the impulses of his mind while he slept. If it remained active, so be it. He could only control what was going on in his waking mind. He recited formulas, counted forwards and backwards, He wouldn't lose himself. Never. He recalled a moment when he thought he'd seen _him_ and someone else. A short redheaded dwarf... his voice was familiar. Loud and rather shrill. He heard the tapping of the glass, moving only his eyes as he watched them. Yes. It was him. Honeydew. Or at least, whom he presumed to be Honeydew. He'd been busy with his technology. With all of his ideas. Xephos spoke, he could see his lips moving.

 

Forming the same lies he told everyone else. 'He's crazy', 'He killed twenty testificates', 'He's dangerous',

 

'Don't tap on the glass',

 

You Liar.

 

YOU.

 

'Don't worry about it',

 

LIAR.

 

He wanted to yell, to shout and pound against the glass, but he didn't. He sat and watched as they disappeared. It wasn't until the count of twenty that he saw Xephos moving back across the hall. Instead of moving on as he always did. He stopped. He stopped and watched him. He could FEEL his gaze on him. Slowly he stood from where he sat, turning his gaze up towards him. Staring back just as intensely.

 

“To what, do I owe the pleasure of this little stop, Xephos? This is very unlike you.”

 

The words sound strange to him. It sounds strange to talk to someone other than himself. His voice doesn't falter or whisper. It's loud. Loud like it once was. He watches the man on the other side of the glass, a smile devoid of warmth spread across his lips. He doesn't even bother to put on the fake affection he is so well known for.

 

He hears the tap on the glass. It's like a thousand angels singing in his head at the sound. He stares at him, wondering if he believes his own lie now. That the sound would irritate him. Would cause him to go mad. Oh it was quite the opposite. He wanted the sound. He welcomed it. Even the sound of his captors voice. He feels himself come back to a calm. Come back to himself.

 

It feels wonderful.

 

“Just making sure you're still soundly aware. Wouldn't want to lose you, after all. You're still too valuable to lose.”

 

“That's because you can't fix any of this without me. Are my clones so lacking that you can't even get one of them to take over my role? That's rather pathetic.”

 

He can see him clench his fist even from where he stood. He'd always hated how much of a smart mouth he was. He could feel the smirk tugging at his lips. He had to resist it, however. No. He couldn't let him see he was enjoying his inability to handle criticism. He kept still, watching him carefully as he spoke again.

 

“Well, if I want them to listen I dare not make them an exact copy of you. I've had to take some liberties. Of course, it's made them a little more... simple. Intelligent, capable, but not as quick, not as to the point... but sacrifices must be made dear Lalnable. You must understand considering how you used all those testificates-”

 

“YOU used those testificates. I was only following what YOU told me to do. Just as I always had. YOU just didn't like that I had other ambitions! That I had something far more important to be researching than your little whimsical fantasies of playing god!”

 

He had a bite to his voice, a bite that he hadn't heard in a long time. It got his blood pumping, his heart pounding, his mind clear. The silence had retreated and all that it had taken from him had come back. A little bent, misshapen here and there, but he was there. He was speaking.

 

It felt so good.

 

“Oh? Your little tainted monster you cared so much about? I see how well that went. Couldn't just do as I asked could you? You should of put her out of her misery the moment the taint had inflected her. Then she wouldn't of had to suffer as she had.”

 

He stared at Xephos at the mention of her. Nano. He'd been so close to finding the cure. He knew the research by heart, he'd destroyed everything about it the moment Xephos had deemed him 'insane' and locked him away here. Xephos had been the one to condemn Nano to the painful death she'd suffered. It was HIS fault that Nano was gone. That she had been replaced with-with a pathetic copy.

 

“If you hadn't interfered she would have been fine! I was so close I-”

 

“Close. But no cigar as the saying goes. You wasted time, funds, and used my property on a tainted creature. I told you Lalnable I would let you out if you would just aplogise. That's all I ever wanted, friend. Don't you want to be free? Don't you want to be out and with other people again? You've been alone for so, so long. Two little words can make it happen, Lalnable. Two. Little. Words. Say them. Say them for me.”

 

Control. That was what he'd always wanted. Complete control over him. Mind and body. Be an unfeeling, unthinking cog. Not allowed to research, not allowed to push the limits unless HE said to. He wanted him to bow down like a dog. Whine and lick his boots for the gift of his forgiveness. He could feel his lip curling then, his own face twisting into a snarl. The sound of his own voice frightened him, yet excited him all the same.

 

“Not a bloody chance. I won't beg for forgiveness where none is needed. I will find a way out of here, Xephos. I'll find a way out of here and when I do. Oh, you'll be so surprised to see what I’m truly capable of.”

 

He heard the other laugh then. The laugh not making him angry. No it made him feel, as if his challenge had been accepted. His face changed again, lips curling into a smirk as he met those blue eyes filled with ice once more.

 

“Pathetic. Good luck with that. You've wasted enough of my time. Maybe when I see you next you'll be a bit more complacent than you are now.”

 

He turned away from him then. He watched him go. His mind buzzing as he listened to the faint sounds of his footsteps as they retreated, a door opening and closing in the distance then,

 

Silence.

 

It returned again as a lover would in the dead of night after a long journey. He could feel it's ice cold embrace as the buzzing in his mind settled. Old thoughts of Nano swam in his consciousness. Her hopeful expression, her chiding remarks, all the little things she used to do for him as a friend. He'd lost a dear friend that day. He'd lost many friends since he'd helped create that blasted cloning vat. He'd allowed too much power to fall into a single pair of hands. Xephos could end any of them, could make any one of them stop existing at his whim. Lalnable knew, however that he would never do that. No matter how difficult the person was, he always found a way to make them comply.

 

He had hoped the silence would make him comply.

 

It only gave him incentive now. He'd find a way out of here in the silence, and in the silence he would leave. He'd build up what he needed, then he'd come back. He'd come back and-

 

The silence enveloped him. He began to mutter and pace. The sounds of his footsteps giving him a means of focus. There were eyes all around, but soon they'd stop watching. Soon he'd make a move.

 

Soon he'd be free.

 


End file.
